


when i was a child there were no crows

by artsycat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Written for the 2018 Eremika Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsycat/pseuds/artsycat
Summary: The calm stillness lulls into the background, and there is nothing left to say. Eventually, Mikasa knows, he will talk because there are still reasons as to why he’s brought her here. But she finds she does not mind this quietness. Comfortable and almost peaceful. It will not last though, it hardly ever does. This is the calm before the storm she’s heard so much about, and just like the distant roars of the ocean, this storm thunders and rumbles across a faraway sky, making its way here, wherever here may be.“I missed you.” He says, breaking the silence. Softer, almost like a whisper, he adds, “I dreamt of you.”





	when i was a child there were no crows

**Author's Note:**

> Hobo Eren and Mikasa. Made for the 2018 eremika gift exchange for my lovely friend Janet (aka @mrsstampede). Title is taken from “San Francisco Crows” by Deborah Major.
> 
> Completely forgot to post this here lol, read it and please lmk what you think! Also please go and select your prompts for the 2019 eremika week!! You can do so by going on to eremikaweeks.tumblr.com and there'll be a post where you can select the prompts!!! (im sorry i suck at explaining things >.<)

The hayloft where she’s meant to find Eren sits empty and abandoned, the crows cawing above the evening sun. His letter remains on her person, folded carefully within the pockets of her trousers. He’s managed to wither his way into here from the hospital he’s been staying at, and Mikasa wonders just how he managed it with only one leg. Though she knows that the missing limb will grow again, it’s still difficult to think about it. The pain must have been terrible - agonizing and terrible.

The door shuts softly behind her. She can still hear the cawing of crows and hopes that they stop soon otherwise she might just go crazy. She’s never liked crows. They were - well, they scared her, for a reason she still does not understand. If she tries very, very hard, she can almost remember her mother foisting away crows from the meat she left outside.

There’s a shift, a shuffle of feet, a small movement, but Mikasa can tell, she can always tell. Her eyes meet green ones and for a second, she can’t help but gasp slightly. His hair is longer now, almost to his shoulders, making their way down to his back, and a bandage is wrapped around his head, covering his eye. His face is unshaven, and his appearance is dishevelled, but what really takes hold of her notice is the cane he leans on; his left pant leg thats been tied to a knot at around his thigh, signifying the loss of a limb.

“Mikasa,” he says, his voice far away. “I’m glad you made it.”

For a second, she’s unsure of what to say. It’s useless to say anything because of course she would’ve made it. She would have tried to find him through any means possible. Would’ve scoured the whole world just for a glimpse of him. It’s only the one letter he’s sent to her that’s stopped her from doing so. Questions swarm through her mind, who, what, where and why. She doesn’t expect them to be answered though, Eren has… he’s changed. Something in him that she’s not used to seeing - something in him that isn’t quite him.

Perhaps it’s the paths, the memories of the previous titan holders disturbing his peace of mind. He’s confessed to her in the dark of the night, where secrets would come unspooling, about how he was afraid. He was so vulnerable then, so soft by the orange glow of the candle light that Mikasa could almost kiss him. Summon up the bravery and do it - for what else did she have to lose? But she was also afraid, for their friendship, for the news of the world and their place in it. She would remain in her seat and look away, thinking of the shame she’d feel even if she kissed him and Eren would reject her anyways.

He sighs as she says nothing, seating himself on the ground besides a pile of hay. His movements are shaky, and she knows that doing anything with only one leg must make even the basic of things difficult. Her heart breaks for him, for everything he has to go through, for everything he has gone through.

“Are you alright, Eren?” Is what she says instead, moving to sit next to him. His right leg presses against her left, and for a moment she revels in this. Of touches so phantom-like they might as well not even exist. But this exists, and Mikasa will take what she can get. Even if it’s small, even if it’s insignificant.

His smile is small and wry, lone eye almost crinkling as he says, “You’re still worried about me?”

“I’m always worried about you,” she immediately says. “All the time.”

“I’m undeserving of your concern, but thank you anyways. I’m alright.”

“Eren,” Mikasa frowns, pulling his hand into her own. “I… stop this. Stop acting like this, it isn’t you.”

He pries his hand away from her gently. “And what isn’t me?” He says, and he almost sounds serious, almost expecting of an answer from her until he steamrollers on. “What am I supposed to be, Mikasa? The boy that I was, the man I’m supposed to be, the saviour people expect me to be?”

“No,” she says, almost sadly. “You don’t have to… no, Eren. You just have to be you.”

“And who is that, then?”

Mikasa turns her head away from him, unsure of the answer herself. It’s funny, she thinks, how you can know someone your entire life and feel like a stranger in their midst. But she and Eren are no strangers, so what is it that she thinks him to be? The boy he was is gone now, and the man he’s supposed to be is almost there, right in his grasp. However, even she doesn’t know what man he will one day become. All she knows is the boy he used to be, the saviour he is expected to be.

“I wish I knew so that I could tell you,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” his voice is far and distant, like the roar of waves being heard from all the way inside the walls. “It was a stupid question anyways.”

“It wasn’t. It’s important. It’s important to you, right? If so, then it wasn’t stupid.”

The calm stillness lulls into the background, and there is nothing left to say. Eventually, Mikasa knows, he will talk because there are still reasons as to why he’s brought her here. But she finds she does not mind this quietness. Comfortable and almost peaceful. It will not last though, it hardly ever does. This is the calm before the storm she’s heard so much about, and just like the distant roars of the ocean, this storm thunders and rumbles across a faraway sky, making its way here, wherever here may be.

“I missed you.” He says, breaking the silence. Softer, almost like a whisper, he adds, “I dreamt of you.”

She sits there, almost stunned, because this is a confession she has never heard from him before. The words imprint themselves into her mind, and almost as though they were written down, she traces an imaginary finger around them. I dreamt of you. I dreamt of you. I dreamt of you.

“I missed you too.” Is all she can say, and she turns to look at him, the light of the sunset that peeks through holes and gapes of the wooden walls making him look so soft, so vulnerable, that she could almost kiss him. To her surprise, she does. And to her even greater surprise, he lets her. They are tender presses of lips and sighs and something more. She wonders if he’s thought about this just as long as she has. She wonders why he never took the chance. She wonders if he was afraid, just like her.

His kisses tastes like war, but Mikasa has been a soldier for as long as she can remember. There is no fight that she will not back down from, and this one shall be no different

Before she even realizes it, she seated herself upon his lap, hands moving into his mess of hair, and his own at her waist. She pulls away to breathe for a moment, and they both look at each other as if seeing one another for the first time. Her heart beats so loud in her chest, and she thinks of how long she’s waited for this, how long she’s wanted this.

“Eren,” she says.

“I know,” he replies. “I know.”

And they kiss again, for real this time. A lovers kiss. All tongue and heat and passion. His lips move from her mouth to ear, kissing the shell behind it, and she sighs with pleasure, fingers tightening in the strands of his hair. He traces kisses down and down, until he meets her neck and replaces soft lips with sharp teeth and she gasps from shock and pleasure as he keeps with it, nibbling and pulling at the skin. She finds herself rocking her hips against his, a fire in her stomach and a heat between her legs. He’s still busy with leaving purple bruises on her neck, marking her in some territorial way. She finds that she does not mind it, finds that she even likes it. She wants to be marked by him, wants the world to see and know how he loves her.

He spreads her legs apart with his knee, and pulls away her shirt. She can feel his manhood pressing against her, hot and hard and she scrambles to peel off his shirt. They both sit there, arms wrapped around each other, breath mingling, and chests pressed together, skin to skin. He unclasps her brassiere, and she shrugs it off, his hands instantly cupping her breasts, and she shivers from the contact - of his warm, hot hands against her bare cold skin. He massages gently, circling her nipples with his thumb until they’re hard and peaked and aching.

“Eren,” she says, sighing, and he descends upon her, mouth upon her breast, kissing and licking and sucking, making her back arch and a moan escapes her mouth. He moves her down onto the ground, pinning her hands above her head, and suckles at her breast needy and wanting until she’s writhing against the ground, her legs trembling and squirming, rubbing them together to get some friction going. He notices this, and goes to instantly removes her trousers and underwear, setting them aside until she’s bared to him, naked just as the day she was born. He ghosts a finger against her sex, making her groan, making her cant her hips up in a half-hearted attempt to make his finger stay there.

“So wet,” she hears him murmur, and then louder, he says, “you need to tell me how to make this good for you. I want this to be good for you.”

He’s so foolish, she thinks fondly. This feeling, this scene right here, right now, is more than enough to make her feel good. It’s more than enough to make her happy and content, perhaps for the rest of her life even. But she acquiesces to his request anyways, and with little more than a blush on her face, she moves his hand to the top of her mound where her clit rests, and guides his fingers in her own to make small circles that have her gasping and moaning.

“A little faster,” she tells him, when the pleasure starts to cave in. “Just a little faster.”

Mikasa ought to be ashamed, to be so wilfully wanton, but she isn’t. She could hardly care less when this is something they both want - something they both have wanted. In this arena, Eren has just as much experience as she - meaning to say, not at all. They both have been so focused on other things, on the titans, on the war, on Marley and his brother and her long lost Oriental family. And they had been surrounded by so many people, had to do so many things, that sex was hardly at the forefront of their minds. Oh, there would be late nights when she’d think that everyone was fast asleep and would quickly push a hand down her night skirts, getting herself off until she was satisfied. She’d imagine her fingers to be Eren’s own long, almost graceful ones. And now that fantasy is coming alive, and it makes her peak harder than she ever could by her own hand.

She’s still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm when Eren moves to place himself between her legs. Her feet lifts up to caress the outline of his throbbing manhood and he hisses, grabbing onto her knee for support. But then, realization hits her, and concern overtakes as she asks, “Eren - your leg?”

“It’s fine,” he tells her. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t hurt.”

It’s not enough to abate her worry, but he kisses her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, melting that worry away until it’s replaced with that familiar need again. His hips move shallowy, finding for friction, and she tries to remove his trousers until he discards them on his own, throwing them away. Now, they’re both bare and naked, their bodies slicked with sweat and heat, and her eyes move to his cock which sits proud and upright, the head leaking with precum. She almost blushes once more - almost, until his lips find hers again, and they are once more lost in this haze. His lone eye mists with lust and want as they pull apart, and Mikasa brushes her fingers through his strands of hair, looking at him with the utmost love and trust which he slowly returns.

“Go,” she whispers to him. “I want you.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs. His cock starts at the entrance of her sex, and he pushes in, making her writhe and moan against him. He presses his hand on the floor next to her head for support as he inches his way inside her until he’s fully sheathed. He stays there for a while, allowing both him and her to get used to this feeling, to be familiar with this new side of each other. Mikasa thinks she’s never felt so whole in her life, she’s never felt so right in her life. Eren begins to move, pulling away before pushing himself back in. It’s difficult to find a proper rhythm at first, but as the tension fades from their shoulders and their breathing becomes calmer, Mikasa gains a swell of confidence and spreads her legs wider, eventually wrapping them around his waist when Eren starts to move.

He takes it slow at first, pressing in and out of her, moving her hips with every movement he makes. He starts going faster now, and her chest heaves, her nipples brushing against his chest, his face tucked into the crook of her neck, until there’s nothing left but the sound of their pleasure; wet and lewd. She’s still sensitive from her first orgasm, but Mikasa thinks she could come again if keeps with his pace.

“Please Eren,” she moans, “please.” And with that, he gets the hint, surging his hips against her hard and fast until the sound of skin on skin overtakes her ears. He muffles his groans, biting in her shoulder as he takes his pleasure, and presses in her deep, spilling himself inside of her with a groan he cannot hide. That’s enough to push her over the edge, enough to get the heat to unspool from within her as she comes again. And despite her oversensitivity, despite her ache, she thinks of this to be the best.

He collapses once more, face pressed against her breast. Their bodies are sweat-ridden, and Mikasa knows that they should get up and clean after themselves, but she finds it difficult to care. He rolls over to be besides her, their legs a tangled mess, and if Mikasa can try hard enough, she can almost imagine his lost leg amongst the heap. The questions come back again, swarming her head, and she knows they need to be answered, knows that she needs to ask them, but right now she can’t. The storm is far away now, and even if it does rain, they have shelter and warmth and each other.

And it’s night time anyways. The sun set long ago and the crows have stopped their cawing. She knows they will begin soon, but for now, for now she will rest, just as they do.

In the morning, the crows make no sound. Mikasa sleeps and does not wake up until later, nestled in Eren’s arms.


End file.
